


the good die young, but so did this

by groundopenwide



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 2x12 Coda, Angst, Drabble, Gen, M/M, bc i really needed to do something with all of these Feelings i have, it's just me stepping into raphael's head during the events of the episode, nothing new really happens here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/groundopenwide/pseuds/groundopenwide
Summary: “You’re lucky your sister doesn’t know who you are, because if she did? She’d hate you.”The last few ruins ofthemcrumble to the ground with the words. They are the Roman Empire: built brick by brick, carved across miles of land and decades of blood and battle, then destroyed in a fraction of that, any remaining evidence of their existence buried under the settling dust.“Say goodbye, Simon,” Raphael says.And he watches Rome burn.A coda to 2x12.





	the good die young, but so did this

**Author's Note:**

> so i wanted to write a fix-it fic after 2x12, but things between simon and raphael are honestly so messed up right now that i couldn’t even manage it. instead i wrote this. how sad is that??? 
> 
> (also, question: why is every song halsey writes literally about saphael? i thought the badlands album hurt, but hfk managed to fuck me up even more! thnx halsey!!!!)
> 
> speak of the devil: the title comes from her song _hopeless_ , but the fic itself was inspired by _100 letters_.
> 
> also you can follow me on [tumblr](http://groundopenwide.tumblr.com) if you'd like!

_I can’t stop thinking_

_how I almost gave you everything—_

_and now the whole thing’s finished_

_and I can’t stop wishing_

_that I never gave you anything._

-“100 Letters” by Halsey

  

They’ve been here before.

On opposite sides of a room—of a _war._ Too familiar with one another to be considered strangers, but the distance between them too vast, the mistakes too many, for them to be friends. Acquaintances, even. 

And so here they stand: in no man’s land.

“Any last words?” Raphael asks. 

His grip on the wooden stake is firm even in its proximity to Simon’s heart. One stab straight through—that’s all it will take. Even angel blood can’t protect him. Simon’s life once again rests in Raphael’s cold, cold hands, no less fragile than it was before, and this time, Raphael’s will won’t waver. His fingers won’t tremble. He won’t hesitate.

This time, he knows better.

A flash of _something_ in Simon’s eyes. That’s familiar, too—the moment of remorse. Last time, Raphael had felt it: the regret, the uncertainty, the betrayal. _Where did I go wrong?_ he’d thought desperately. _Why weren’t we—why wasn’t_ ** _I_** _—enough?_

None of that now. The remorse this time is one-sided; all Raphael feels is anger, sharp and burning. It makes his fangs elongate and his blood boil. Deep inside, the monster in him screams for release, and for once, he doesn’t want to quiet it.

He doesn’t miss the way Simon’s eyes start to water—out of fear for himself, possibly, but most likely out of fear for Isabelle, held captive behind Raphael’s back. Either way, the common denominator: fear _of_ Raphael. Could Simon’s eyes hold tears of mourning for what they could have been, what they used to be? Perhaps—but Raphael had entertained those thoughts _before_ , and he refuses to play the role of the fool once again. 

Simon stares at him; Raphael stares back. 

He knows this moment intimately, more intimately than he’d like. The crooked line of Simon’s right eyebrow, the unnecessary rise and fall of his chest, the frustration rolling off of him in tidal waves. He can spot the kill shot coming before Simon even has his finger on the trigger.

“You’re lucky your sister doesn’t know who you are, because if she did? She’d hate you.”

The last few ruins of _them_ crumble to the ground with the words. They are the Roman Empire: built brick by brick, carved across miles of land and decades of blood and battle, then destroyed in a fraction of that, any remaining evidence of their existence buried under the settling dust.

“Say goodbye, Simon,” Raphael says.

And he watches Rome burn.

They collide like two planets, pulled in by each other’s gravity and exploding in a shockwave that rattles the rest of the universe. Raphael thrusts his stake out and Simon catches it with a fierce twist of his wrist, and they’re stumbling, grappling at one another in a cloud of fury. They never made it this far, before; in fact, they never made it this far in a lot of things. 

Everything about this moment is born from a memory of not long ago, of a dim room in the Hotel Dumort and a betrayal that still tastes like blood in Raphael’s mouth. It isn’t surprising, then, that the door crashes open and brings the sun with it. He leaps back just in time. An ocean of light spills across the floor, and submerged in it, Simon: bathed in gold, stance wide and jaw tight, eyes ablaze, Apollo in his own right. 

Fitting, that even now Raphael would feel like a mere mortal in Simon’s presence.

“Anyone else want to take a shot?” Simon asks the room, but the question is just for Raphael. Vicious, mocking, so assured in his weakness. _You won’t do it, I know you won’t. You never could before._

The monster in Raphael _roars;_ it imagines each one of Simon’s bones cracking, his throat ripped open, blood blood _blood_ everywhere _._ It aches for vengeance, for control over this thing—this _boy—_ that has snatched Raphael up between his jaws so easily, only to chew him up and spit him back out. It beats at Raphael’s chest and begs him to let it out, sunlight be damned. 

And for a moment, Raphael listens. He walks forward and ends up right in the void, in the space where light meets dark. The strip of sunlight between he and Simon is inches wide, but it feels like miles—Simon could easily reach out and grab him, drag him forward and watch him ignite, crumble to pieces, but he doesn’t. The stake meanwhile dangles from Raphael’s fingers, useless, and the monster falls silent.

It turns out that neither of them is any weaker than the other, in the end.

_I would have done anything for you,_ Raphael thinks, but what comes out is, “we’re done here.”

He ignores the twitch of Simon’s jaw as he turns away.


End file.
